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“Hey, Dakota.”
“Waverly, I need your help,” I said, my voice sounding panicked.
Instantly alarmed, Waverly replied, “Oh my God. Are you okay?”
There was no missing the trembling sound of my voice. “I can’t do it again.”
“What? What are you talking about?” she questioned me.
I took in a few deep breaths as I tried to settle myself down. I wasn’t quite sure I’d gotten my emotions under control when I answered, “I don’t want to go through it all over again. I can’t do it. I can’t become attached to someone, only to have them break my heart.”
There was a lengthy silence before Waverly countered, “I completely understand why you feel that way, but I’m not sure I understand why you’re saying this right now and why you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. What’s going on?”
“It’s him,” I rasped.
“Tom?” she asked. “Did that asshole call you again? Please don’t tell me that you’re considering getting back together with him.”
For the first time since I’d walked away from Jack’s fenced-in yard, I let out a laugh. “I’m struggling, Waverly. I’m not stupid.”
“Then I have no idea what or who you are talking about,” she said.
“It’s my neighbor. His name is Jack.”
An excited squeal came through the line. “You have a neighbor named Jack?” she asked. I couldn’t miss the exhilaration in her voice. Sadly, I was going to have to disappoint her.
“Yes, I do. But this is not going where you’re thinking or hoping it does,” I warned her.
She let out a frustrated sigh. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I needed her advice, so that was precisely what I did. I told her how I’d admired him from the comfort and safety of my cabin when I first moved to Cottonwood. I explained what happened when I finally took her advice and got myself out of the house. I shared how he’d come to my aid on more than one occasion, and I didn’t hide the details of today’s encounter from her.
The silence stretched between us, and I wondered if at some point in all of my rambling that we’d gotten disconnected.
“Waverly?” I called.
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t respond. I thought we got disconnected,” I said.
Following a beat of silence, she spoke. “I’m not sure I know what to say,” she confessed. “After all that you’ve just shared, I have to admit that I don’t understand what the problem is. It sounds like you got really lucky with having an excellent neighbor.”
“I did,” I agreed. “Honestly, I’m grateful for all that he’s done.”
“I don’t understand what the problem is, then.”
In my mind, it all seemed so much more reasonable for me to feel the way that I did. I understood my reasons, and I knew how I felt. I had to admit I was a little worried that once I shared the issue with Waverly, she might tell me that I was crazy for feeling the way that I did.
Even still, I desperately needed to talk to someone about it. She was all that I had, so I had no choice but to share it with her.
“He talks to me,” I blurted.
When I made no move to add anything else, Waverly countered, “What? Why is that a problem?”
“He talks to me,” I repeated. “He doesn’t yell. He speaks in a calm, rational tone. He’s gone out of his way multiple times for me, and he never seems to be the least bit irritated that he’s been inconvenienced. I had no idea that my chimney was on fire or why it happened, and Jack took the time to explain it to me. He went back to his place and brought over a space heater so that I could sleep in a warm cabin until he could come back and clean my chimney the next morning.”
Evidently, my explanation did little to help my best friend understand the predicament I was in. “This is all great stuff, Dakota.”
“Yes, I can see why you’d think that was the case for anyone else,” I reasoned.
